The Fears We See
by cwiggle
Summary: Nightmares haunt them all. Each of them face their own demons night after night. And they're all the better for it. (Seven days of Voltron, learn more in author's note)
1. Keith

**Disclaimer: I do not own Voltron or its characters. I just really hope I can do them all equal and good enough justice!**

 **Author's Note: So, I got this idea to do seven days of Voltron. It's an area I've written absolutely nothing on, personal or posted, and after watching season 4 (my gosh, Lotor, Keith, what's up with Shiro?!) and after reading absolutely brilliant fanfics by Rangergirl3 (definitely go check out her AMAZING work), I decided to do this.**

 **Basically, for the next six days, I'm challenging myself to write one chapter a day for each of the Paladins plus Allura and Coran. So, since Keith is my fave, he gets the first chapter. :)**

 **Please comment and let me know what you think. Constructive criticisms and even plain acknowledgement that you like what I write are the most inspiring things for me! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

There was nothing but darkness. For a brief moment, it was calm, comfortable, and safe.

And then streaks of purple light raced across Keith's vision, and he realized he was in a Galra ship. _Not_ the Blade of Marmora.

No, this was one of _their_ ships.

Keith took in his surroundings and his heart sped up. He was in one long horribly infinite-seeming hallway of cold metal and magenta lights. The air was thick and hard to breathe, and the entire place seemed to be thinking _kill. Kill you. Now._

Keith took a deep breath to try to figure out what to do. He didn't remember sneaking on a Galra ship. He didn't remember being captured.

He looked around the hall wearily, but no one was there. It was just him. Alone in the alien ship with no clue how he'd gotten there.

Or at least, he _had_ been alone.

A figure far down the hallway was coming his way. Every instinct Keith possessed wanted him to draw his sword or turn and run, but he found himself suddenly unable to move.

It wasn't too long before he recognized the figure as Zarkon.

Keith struggled frantically to move but found himself suddenly held in place by the witch, Haggar. Yellow eyes glowed through the shadows of her dark hood and she held out her hand out at him, malicious magic pulsing around her fingers.

"It's almost like you can't help yourself, _Paladin_ ," Zarkon smiled malevolently as he came to a stop in front of Keith.

Keith found he couldn't move, couldn't' speak, couldn't even make a noise. So instead, he settled for a glare.

Zarkon chuckled in response, shaking his head lightly. "Who could have guessed the truth in my words when we fought all that time ago?" Zarkon grabbed Keith's chin in two clawed fingers. "Ah, yes," he said in a low growling tone. "I can see the Galra in you. I know my own people. They are relentless and strong and do not give up." Zarkon smiled in an evil, twisted way. "That's you, isn't it, Paladin?"

"Let go of me!" Keith found his voice and pulled his head back as best as he could to get away from Zarkon's grip.

This only made Zarkon laugh as he dropped his hand to his side. "You only prove my point, Paladin," Then his laughter ceased and he stared at Keith with a terrible glimmer in his eyes. "Do your fellow petty Paladins know? Does the princess know that you are a part of the race that destroyed her people?"

" _You_ destroyed Altea," Keith growled. "And _I'm_ not one of you."

Zarkon set his jaw. "Perhaps not completely, however... What do your friends think about this?"

Suddenly, it was dark again. Keith could move once more, and he found himself stumbling around, looking for something, _anything._

Then some dim light returned and Keith found himself in his room at the castle. The empty room with the bed made like he was taught at the Garrison. His dagger sat on top of his pillow.

Even though being in his bedroom meant he was home, Keith felt uneasy and confused and he grabbed his dagger quickly. Its familiarity gave him only a slight comfort and he hurried to open his door. He barely made it out of his room before a voice from behind him called, "Keith?"

Pidge.

Keith turned around hurriedly. His eyes widened when he saw his whole team standing in the hallway a few feet away. He hadn't even heard their footsteps and he generally had good hearing.

It hit him after a moment that the Paladins, Allura, and Coran were all looking at him nervously. He thought Pidge may even have taken a step back.

"Keith, what-what-you-" Pidge stuttered.

Shiro moved in front of her and his eyes hardened.

"What?" Keith asked, taking a step closer to his friends.

"What are you?" Shiro asked without any warmth in his voice.

Keith scrunched his eyebrows. Some part of his brain registered, but the conscious part was confused. "What do you mean? It's me. Keith"

There were varied reactions of disbelief and horror and...hatred. Hatred for _him._ "Guys, what-" he caught a glance of something in his dagger. Something that _definitely_ didn't belong...

He raised his blade to look and his heart seemed to stop as he saw the _thing_ staring back at him. Purple skin, glowing yellow eyes, fangs for teeth. Keith dropped his dagger and saw he no longer had fingers, but claws.

"What? No, no-"

"Stay back, " Shiro growled at him. Shiro's cybernetic arm began to glow and he held it up in defence.

"No, Shiro, I swear, it's still me. I didn't know I was-"

" _Monster!_ "Allura shouted. Her face was red with anger, her eyes filled with murder. "Why didn't you tell us!"

"I didn't know! Allura, please. Shiro, don't-"

Shiro was slowly advancing on him with the clear intent to hurt.

"Guys, I didn't know, I swear!" Keith exclaimed and he stumbled back a few steps. "Shiro, you have to believe me!"

"Believe you?" Lance exclaimed. He had his rifle. He had it pointed at Keith. "You want us to believe you when you couldn't even tell us that you're-you're one of _them_?"

"Lance, I didn't know!" Keith said again. He stared in fear at Shiro. Never had he been afraid of Shiro before. Never had he been afraid of his _brother_ before. Perhaps they weren't related by blood, but Keith had known Shiro for years. They'd been through so much together, and now...

Shiro looked ready to _kill_.

"Shiro, please. You know I'm still me. I-I wouldn't hurt any of you. Not _ever._ I-"

" _Shut up_ ," Shiro cut him off with a hiss. Suddenly, it was only Shiro and Keith. The hall had melted away, the castle was gone.

In the background, Keith's friends were screaming in horror or shouting things like, " _Monster!_ " " _How could you have lied to us?_ " " _You destroyed our planet. Our people. Our king!_ " " _I can't believe you'd lie...We trusted you._ "

And Shiro was advancing closer and closer, the hate and fury radiating off him in waves. His dark grey eyes were hard and cold in a way Keith had never seen them before. The leader of the Paladins bared his teeth viciously, his weaponized arm glowing and sparking dangerously.

"Shiro, please," Keith pleaded, but his own voice sounded quiet and weak and far away.

" _Monster!_ " " _Galra scum!_ " " _Traitor!_ "

"They tortured me for _years, Keith,_ " Shiro spat his name like it was a dirty word. "And all this time, _you_ were one of them."

"No! I'm not! I'm not, I swear!" Keith shouted. His back hit a wall that hadn't been there before and the two were now in Keith's old room. Not from the castle. Not from his ramshackle cabin in the middle of nowhere. His first one in the house where he and his parents had lived.

A small bed was messy and unmade, blankets tossed about every which way. The bookshelf was covered in books, all stacked on top of each other in haphazard ways. Another bookcase was lined with bins for toys.

And Shiro was still advancing. And Keith was stuck against one wall. There was no where to go.

"Shiro, please. I promise you I didn't know I was Galra!" He tried to shout, but his voice was still quiet and felt a great distance away. Shiro didn't seem to be hearing it.

"That witch took my arm," Shiro growled. "They stripped away my thoughts and my memories and replaced them over and over. And you are one of them. And now you want to hurt my family?"

"No! No! I don't! Shiro, they're my family too! Please, I didn't know, you have to believe me, Shiro, it's me! It's me!"

"Goodbye, _monster_ ," Shiro growled. He was just a foot away from Keith now and he stared straight into his eyes and hissed, "I hope you rot and fester in hell."

Then his arm was slicing into Keith and he screamed and then…

* * *

Keith bolted upright in bed, panting and shaking and sweating, and maybe even crying a little bit, but none of that mattered. None of it mattered at all.

He stared at his hands. They were normal. Pale, slender, calloused from countless fist fights. Keith dug his dagger out from under his pillow and stared at the dim reflection.

He glared at the figure in the dagger for at least five minutes. White skin. Purple eyes. Regular teeth. Bloodshot, sleep deprived eyes.

After being satisfied that he wasn't that _thing_ anymore, Keith threw the dagger as hard as he could across the room, and it embedded into the wall up to the hilt.

Keith didn't care what Coran would say later. He'd worry about it then.

He then stared at his pillow for a count of three, before subjecting himself to the fact that he would _not_ under _any_ circumstances be able to sleep again that night. Not after that dream.

So he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on. Picked up his bayard from beside his bed - he didn't really care if his team thought he was paranoid to sleep with weapons so close by - and he hurried out of his bedroom, careful to not look behind his shoulder at the hall where they'd all looked at him like that…

He walked quickly and not very quietly all the way to the training deck.

Keith heart was still pounding, and his head was still filled with his team's voices. _Monster. Traitor._

 _I hope you rot and fester in hell._

Keith couldn't request the level five robot fast enough.

He slashed and hit and fought wildly, even if he knew fighting with emotion only resulted in sloppy fighting and higher chances of losing, he didn't care.

Keith was knocked down more times then he could count (if he'd even taken care to count at all), but he always got up again.

He wasn't sure how long passed before he drove his sword into the robot's chest with a scream and the machine toppled backward to the floor with a crash.

Keith stared at his sword and the robot for a moment, panting, wheezing, and bleeding from a few fresh(though minor) wounds.

 _They tortured me for years. And you're one of them._

 _You killed my people. My father._

 _Monster._

 _How can we believe you? You lied to us._

 _Traitor._

 _I hope you rot and fester in hell._

That was all the rest Keith could take before he sank to the ground and covered his ears with his hands, even if it didn't help the memories of the nightmare from entering his thoughts at all sides.

He may have screamed a few times. May have cursed his parents. Cursed himself. He may have buried his face in his hands and cried.

He sat in the middle of the large, open training deck. Alone except for the robot he'd stuck his sword into.

Alone with only his own horrible thoughts to keep him company.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So, that's it. That's chapter one. It's almost 10:30 and I have a lot of tests tomorrow to study for, so...wish me luck? Call me stupid? Both? Anyway, I know this is a hurt/comfort story, and I promise I'll get to the comfort part… Eventually. Anyway, I hope you are somehow still willing to read on!**


	2. Lance

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the show or the characters(although I did give names to a few oc's that are, like, semi-cannon)**

 **Author's note: So, I just wanted to say really quick that the amount of errors in these is probably going to be more that I would like. I'm writing these, skimming through them maybe once, and then posting and going to bed. I apologize for any typos or grammatical problems, but if I want to get this done, I can't really be picky.**

 **Also, I'm surprised at the amount of people that read the first chapter and it got me really excited!**

 **This chapter is for Lance. For the sake of a few other fanfics I read, I've decided to use the headcannon that Lance is Hispanic. (I have it just on his mother's side, I think) So that plays a little in the names used.**

 **Anyway, sorry for the long note. Barely got this posted before midnight. Thanks for reading, guys! Please enjoy and review!**

* * *

Lance recognized his home. His _first_ home, anyway.

He considered anywhere where he had family and friends and sufficient life requirements to be a home. The Garrison and the castle; but none of those places meant as much to him as the large ranch house by the lake. The home where he grew up. Where his parents, his sisters, and his grandmother lived.

They'd all lived in that one big house.

The scene that played out before him was a memory.

Lance was ten-years-old. His older sisters Margaretta and Anna were reclining on towels in the summer sun, laughing as he strutted about in front of them, pretending to be the hero in the movie they'd seen the night before.

Maria and Connie were playing and splashing in the water. Lance's youngest sister Lizabeth (no one called the baby 'Elizabeta') was squealing in delight in his father's hands as the tall man carefully tossed the child in the air a few inches and caught her again.

Up the steps that led up to the hill from the beach was the house. Lance's mother and grandmother were folding laundry on the porch.

Lance became distracted from his performance by something glinting in the sand. He crouched down to pick it up, but Margaretta jumped up and shrieked, "Lance! Don't touch it!"

"Why?" Lance asked, his eyes still fixed on the shiny blue object.

"If you touch that," Anna warned, standing as well. "You will _never_ see us again."

Lance laughed. "You two are funny," he smiled at them. "I know you like to prank me." Lance reached out and put his hand on the object.

Somehow, he ended up grown and in the cave where he'd first seen Blue. His hand was resting on Blue's energy barrier. Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, and Keith were all behind him, marveling as the barrier dispersed.

And then Lance was soaring through space in Blue, his friends and their lions beside him. They were fighting a Galra fleet.

Winning. They were winning.

Lance whooped and laughed happily as him and his team had almost destroyed the last Galra cruiser and…

Things went wrong. More and more cruisers appeared. Then the mothership itself expanded into being.

They were outnumbered and fighting fast and hard.

Pidge was down. She'd taken a shot meant for Lance.

Then Keith. He'd tried to take on too many at once.

Then Shiro. He was trying to protect his remaining teammates.

It was only Lance and Hunk left. Allura and Coran were warning them to escape, to fly away.

"We can't leave the others!" Lance replied frantically. He saw the wreckage of the Black, Red, and Green lions, their eyes dead and un-glowing, their pilots unresponsive. Gone...Dead.

"We have to get them out of here!" Lance made a dive for the Red lion.

"No!" Yellow flew in between Blue and Red. "Lance, we have to go or we'll die!" Hunk said solemnly, without emotion, and completely unlike himself.

"No,we can't, Hunk, we c-"

A cannon fired.

Bright blasting light, Lance screamed, "HUNK!"

And then the light was gone.

Lance was somehow aware that he'd escaped after that. That he'd flown back to the castle, only to find Allura and Coran gone. Captured by the Galra. Good as dead.

And after another eternally long split second, Lance was on the beach again.

There was no sun, but the lake was dimly lit by some unknown light source that cast grey shadows across everything.

Blue stood unmoving in front of Lance, just by the staircase up to his house. No one was outside. His older sisters' towels were covered in sand and rumpled on the beach, his younger sisters' pales and mini-shovels were floating in the shallow parts of the water.

"Mama? Dad?" Lance called, looking around the beach. "Gretta? Anna?" He became more desperate with each name. He began to run up the steps to the porch. "Mama? Abuela?" The laundry was scattered across the porch and wrinkled, covered in dust and dirt and blades of grass and a few spare leaves.

The door into the long ranch house was slightly ajar, and no light came from within. The eerie shadowy glow was still present, however, when Lance entered into the large room that served as dining room, entryway, and living room in one. "Hello? Anybody? Connie! Maria! Your favorite _hermano_ is home!"

There wasn't a single answer. Lance dashed through every room in the house. All of the bedrooms, the kitchen, the office, the bathrooms, Anna's art studio, the storage room. He called his family's names until his voice grew hoarse.

It finally sank in that they were all gone. His grandmother, his parents, his sisters. His teammates. Shiro, Keith, Pidge. Hunk, his best friend. Coran, who had started to become like an uncle to him. Allura, whom he flirted with shamelessly, but was perfectly content to be close friends with.

Gone. All gone.

"No," Lance whispered. "Please, no."

He was on the porch again, the twilight-zone atmosphere unchanging. A slight breeze bending the branches of the trees surrounding the lake and blowing the dead leaves and grass across the rumpled clothes. Blue stood like a statue on the beach. Looming over the lake and cast in shadow, eyes dark. Lance had never seen his lion look so...dead.

He fell to his knees on the porch and stared up at the grey sky and felt tears come to his eyes.

 _They'reallgonethey'reallgonethey'reallgonethey'reallgonethey'reallgonethey'reallgonethey'reallgonethey'reallgo-_

* * *

Lance opened his eyes and found himself unceremoniously picking himself off the floor in his room. It was a bit difficult considering his legs were tied up in his blanket.

And he was still trying to orient himself after that dream…

After struggling fruitlessly for a few minutes, Lance just yanked the blanket from his legs, wrapped it around his shoulders and sat with his back against his bed.

He closed his eyes and saw an empty house. Sparking wreckage. Blue, still and unmoving.

He opened his eyelids quickly and stared at the wall in front of him. He'd taped the pictures he had carried with him everywhere at the Garrison to the wall.

He'd kept them as a reminder who he studied for. Who he worked hard for. Who he wanted to make proud when he made fighter class pilot…

He smiled slightly as he imagined what his mother would say if she saw what he was doing now. He could imagine his little sisters playing in Blue and pretending to fly.

Maria would be seventeen. Connie would be fourteen. Little Lizabeth would be _nine_ …

Lance almost choked on a lump that formed in his throat. He hadn't seen his family in a _year_. They'd been in space that long. It could be another few more before he'd get to go home again.

 _If ever. You could die out here_ , thought the dark part of his brain. The part he tried to suppress with all his might.

Tonight, it didn't work.

Lance swallowed hard and shut his eyes again.

He could die. Out in space. Maybe alongside his fellow Paladins, maybe saving an ailing planet from the Galra, or maybe all alone. In space. And his family would never know what happened to him.

A sudden need to move inspired Lance into standing up and hurrying out his door and down the hall.

He headed for the main deck, the control room, the place where Allura did her worm-hole thing…

Lance didn't care for the moment what that place was called. He just wanted to get there. And locate Earth on the maps. Just look at it. See it again.

See the place he might not ever return to.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So, yeah, this time, I finish at 11:40. Wow, I'm desperate. Anyway, I think this one ended up being a little longer...Huh. Anyway, thanks for reading guys! Catch up with you again tomorrow for the next chapter. (Hopefully not at twenty to midnight)**


	3. Pidge

**Disclaimer: All rights for awesome characters, stories, etc. go to Netflix and the crew of Voltron: Legendary Defender!**

 **Author's Note: Sorry about not posting yesterday! Just, you know, best friends come first:).**

 **So, I also wanted to mention a few things. The time in which these chapters take place is kind of not planned or specific at all. All of the chapters take place on the same night, but I don't know where that night is in relation to the show.**

 **Also, I reread my stuff and noticed a few inaccurate things. I apologize for not being able to correct them right away. When I'm done with this, I'll try to go back and fix these.**

 **Anyway, thank you all so much for reading my story and commenting and following and favoriting. It really means a lot!**

 **Please enjoy!**

* * *

The cake that Katie displayed for her mother was laughable. It sagged in the middle, the frosting was lumpy, and clumps of yellow cake were scattered about the plate.

The appearance of the cake was not the point, however. The point was that it was Katie's mother's birthday and Katie, Matt, and their father had made sure Mrs. Holt stayed out of the kitchen the entire day.

Needless to say, it had been quite the show.

Not Katie or her brother or her father had any skill whatsoever in working with food. All of them were scientists. Mathematicians. Logical thinkers.

By all sense of reason, they should have been able to follow a few simple recipes.

Nevertheless, all three were covered in flour, Matt had egg in his hair, Katie had frosting smeared on her cheek, and they were beaming at Mrs. Holt with the disheveled cake.

And Mrs. Holt smiled, because even if they would probably end up throwing most of the cake away, even if she woke up that morning to smoke because her husband wasn't fairing too well with her breakfast in bed, even if for supper that night, they'd all end up eating out, she loved her husband, son, and daughter with all of her large heart.

And Katie knew it. She didn't bother looking embarrassed or shamed at the creation she and the boys had made. They all knew that Mrs. Holt didn't care. It was the thought that counted. The effort and struggle and act that made everything better.

"I love it," Mrs. Holt stated honestly. "Now let's grab some forks and dig in!"

Katie set the cake on the table and wrapped her arms tightly around her mother's neck. "I love you, happy birthday!"

They stuck candles in the cake, lit them, and sang an off-key version of happy birthday. The cake ended up being to dry and not quite cooked in the middle. But the frosting was good.

Katie scraped the cake into the trash can and let herself laugh at it.

Then Katie was coming home from school.

A bully had torn up her science essay and she'd barely had time to rewrite the entire thing before it had to be handed in.

Honestly, she had cried a little when she was picking up the books and the torn sheets of her hard work. She knew that the essay she'd turned in wasn't half as good as the one she'd written first.

And that night was her night to wash the dishes. She realized this with a loud groan and she kicked the door shut behind her. She _hated_ washing the dishes.

Katie dropped her heavy book bag down beside the dining room table, sat down, and stuck her face into her arms, refusing to begin her homework.

She was taking extra classes to get more good grades and more credits and more recommendations for the Garrison. It took a huge amount of hard work and no small amount of family ties to get in for a middle school girl with lack of substantial wealth to get into the Garrison. If she got accepted this year, she'd be skipping eighth grade.

Katie doubted her ability to make it, though. All the extra classes were wearing her out. The bullying was getting worse. Her friends had long since ditched her.

"Hey, angel," came her father's voice from the living room. "What's on your mind?"

He knew her _so_ well.

Now, it wouldn't take a genius to see that something was wrong, but it took a father to know that she hated to be asked _what's wrong_. She hated the _how are you?_ and _what's up?_ questions because, in her words, "Emotions can't be described in words. Happiness to one person can be easily achieved and obvious, while another person is happy after a long series of good things happen to them after a generally crappy life."

The point was, her father's question is what got her to tell him, completely, honestly, _exactly_ what was on her mind. From the bully, to her friends, to the Garrison, to missing Matt, to her questioning the way her computer sciences teacher was teaching this particular set of code.

And her father listened, was all. Every time she stopped to take a breath, he offered her small meaningful advice, or tried to do his best to explain how the situation could be worse, or how others might feel.

And when they were done talking, they'd hugged, Katie's father had kissed her on the head, and then joked that with all the worrying she was doing, she'd best get to her homework or else, and then he'd had to get back to his researching.

Katie pulled out her books and worksheets and began with renewed vigor and drive.

Because as long as she had her father to re-encourage her, it didn't matter how many things went wrong.

Katie smirked to hide at her own excitement at her brother's long, rapid, completely, incomprehensible retelling of his first semester at the Garrison.

She was happier than anything that he had got in, but that was no excuse to _not_ make fun of him for his almost - no, complete - child-like behavior now that he was home for a month of winter vacation.

"Matt, honey," interrupted her mother with a smile and an almost devious look in her eye. "I'm really _very_ glad that you're having fun. But I thought the meaning of vacation was to _get away_?"

"Yeah, Matt," Katie joined in. "What Mom is trying to say, is that none of us care."

"Katie!" Her mother scolded, but she was still smiling.

Matt grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I know, I know. I guess, I just...I love it. I love it a lot. But I really am glad to be home," he said at the speed of a normal person.

"We're glad you're back," Mrs. Holt said. "Now, I don't know about you all, but I'm hungry."

So the Holts sat down for turnkey and potatoes and peas and beans and homemade bread and apple cider.

The routine felt normal to have all four of them eating together again. But to Katie, it was far more special. Far more important.

Despite all of the teasing and half-meant insults that she and her brother shared, she loved him to pieces. She hated all of the months that he was away and all the ones he would be gone after his break was over.

Matt had always been there for her. _Always_. He helped her with homework, he talked with her late into the night when she was feeling down, he played video games with her, they had coding competitions.

However, even without his physical presence at the house, Matt continued to be there for Katie.

They sent each other encrypted messages - mostly for fun, partly so that neither could be embarrassed about keeping in touch with the other should anyone find out just _how often_ they communicated - about anything.

When Matt was stressing about a test, Katie would tease him, then do her absolute best to make him feel better and send him some tips. When Katie had a bad day at school, she would briefly tell him what happened and he would send her funny pictures, tv shows to watch, cool and random good things that had happened to him at the Garrison, be cause she really did care what he did there.

She loved Matt. Loved him.

She missed him when he was gone.

Missed her father when he was gone.

Loathed the commander when they'd blamed it on her family.

Missed them so much.

She missed her mother.

Oh, _gosh_ , her mother…

* * *

Pidge opened her eyes slowly and realized it was still night time. Still dark.

She wanted so much to just go back to sleep.

 _Good dreams_ , she told herself. _Those were_ good _dreams_.

But somehow, these cherished memories didn't bring any joy. Didn't make her smile like they used to.

Like they used to when she was on earth. With her father _and_ Matt _and_ her mother.

No. Now those memories only served as a reminder that her father and Matt were lost somewhere in space. Maybe in captivity. Maybe with the rebels. Maybe d...gone. And her mother was on earth, thinking her husband and son had died. Who knows _what_ she was thinking had happened to her daughter.

Pidge curled up tighter in her blanket.

She had lied. Told her mother she had finally been accepted by the Garrison. Then left a week early, cut her hair, donned the glasses, went about setting in the final details to her new profile as Pidge Gunderson.

The glasses she wore. Matt's glasses. They didn't do anything for her vision. Somehow, they'd never ruined her sight or improved it. But she wore them as a reminder. And to keep her brother close. Even her new name, 'Pidge'. Matt's nickname for her.

Pidge hated dreaming now.

She swiped furiously at her eyes to keep tears from falling. Even if no one was there to see, she was mad at herself for still mourning, even after all of this time.

 _The others have families too_ , she reminded herself. They didn't cry. Didn't act so recklessly and rude whenever family was brought up. _Don't be selfish, Katie._

Even after reminding herself several times not to cry, happy memories, the others had families too, did it all just become worse and she began to cry large tears.

Many nights on the castle had been spent crying. So much so, that Pidge had mastered the art of crying silently. The walls were thick and sound-proof, but one could never be too sure.

Pidge didn't know how long she cried before screaming loudly into her pillow in frustration. At herself. At her situation. At Matt and her father and her mother. Then at herself again, because her family had done nothing wrong.

Then Pidge wrapped her blanket tightly around herself and firmly decided to go to the kitchen with her laptop and try to do something, _anything_ to keep her mind from the vicious cycle of _stop crying Katie. Yes they're gone. You can find them. Why did Matt have to get into the Garrison? Why did Dad agree to go on the Kerberos mission with Matt? Oh, Mom… Not they're fault idiot. Stop crying…_

And so it went.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This one seemed a lot easier to write. Lance's was really hard, and I think that's what made it seem longer. Anyway, thanks for reading guys, catch up with Hunk tomorrow!**


	4. Hunk

**Disclaimer: Still don't own anything...**

 **Author's Note: Hi, guys! I'm back. So, yeah it's been a** _ **long**_ **period of inactivity for something supposed to be updated once a day. I can't promise I can finish this in the next three days, but I am going to finish this month if I can.**

 **Now, without further ado, Hunk!**

* * *

For whatever reason, Hunk couldn't bring himself to get up and go train with his friends.

He wasn't tired, wasn't sore; he was just perfectly content to watch

Lance and Keith were sparring. It was one of the only things they could do without arguing. Shiro and Pidge were fighting the Gladiator. (It was no longer set to the child level anymore) Somewhere in the castle, Coran was working on repairs. Allura was busy working on diplomacy on a nearby planet.

It didn't occur to Hunk that _someone_ should have been with the princess.

He watched as Keith locked Lance in a head hold, Shiro sent a final slice through the Gladiator, and Pidge cheered.

Lance tapped out and he and Keith began to bicker again.

The scene changed.

Hunk stared at the new tech design Pidge was working on to upgrade the camouflage on her lion. She was rambling off a string of science forms that only vaguely made sense to Hunk. Then Coran had entered the room. He was telling Pidge about some of the properties of Altean technology in relation to Pidge's ideas and they excitedly began to work on a new design.

Then all of them were in the lounge. Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Shiro, Keith, Coran, Allura.

Lance was telling a funny story. Hunk wasn't really sure what it was about, but everyone was laughing. Even Keith, who tried to avoid laughing at Lance's jokes when at all possible.

Hunk was aware that they'd all gotten back from a particularly hard mission, but Lance was able to make them laugh.

Next, Coran was repairing the healing pods. Hunk watched as Coran carefully twisted and turned the weird Altean screws, and twisted together wires, aligning crystals. He whistled some odd Altean song while his hands flew across the machines. Hunk sat on the floor, not doing anything. Just watching.

Then he was watching Keith pilot the Red lion through a complicated field of asteroids. Huge chunks of rocks all moving around, close together, but the Red lion didn't hit a single one.

Then it was Keith and Shiro fighting. Shiro with his cybernetic arm, Keith with his Blade of Marmora sword. Hunk watched as they fought in rapid style, slicing and slashing and dodging and blocking. All of it seemed sped up and too fast, like a movie set on fast forward.

Suddenly, things slowed way down.

Hunk was it the dining room, moving, this time. He had a tray of space-cookies and he was offering them to his friends.

They were all talking at once, Hunk couldn't make it out, and as soon as he handed the last cookie to Allura, he was frozen and unmoving again.

He held the tray of cookies and watched Allura controlling the ship, firing at the Galra. Then the platform lit up and the castle was worm-holing away.

And Hunk still had the cookies when he watched Shiro command their team out of a difficult battle.

He held a steaming tray of space food when Lance hit a bullseye on every target presented to him in the training room.

He held his Fraunhofer machine as Pidge rigged a device to make the entire castle invisible.

Hunk had his large gun in his hands while Keith and Shiro sliced down Galra droids.

He watched when Coran and Allura sent a large blast of blue light at the Galra cruiser.

He sat as Lance jumped around, animatedly describing a new game while the team laughed.

Hunk did nothing when they all entered into a Galra base.

Did nothing when it was a trap.

Didn't move as even Keith and _Shiro_ were defeated, beat, captured.

He was just standing there as Lance was dragged away, gagged, and hanging limply in the arms of the Galra soldiers.

Hunk simply watched as Pidge tried - and failed - to warn the castle in time. The comms were blocked. Pidge was stunned.

Hunk did nothing as the castle was overrun by Galra fire.

He did nothing when his friends - his family - were locked away. He did nothing when they were screaming and pounding against their cage doors.

He did nothing when the witch came.

Did nothing when his friends were lined up.

Did nothing when the guns fired.

He did nothing.

Hunk couldn't do anything.

Hunk could never do _anything._

He could do nothing.

He could do nothing.

 _I can do nothing._

 _I can do nothing._

 _I can't do anything._

 _I can never do a_ single _thing…_

* * *

Hunk's eyes were closed, but he was awake.

His own voice played over and over in his head. _I can't do anything. I can't do anything. I can't do anything._

Hunk tried to quiet his own brain and go back to sleep. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew it was far too early to be awake.

But it only took another ten minutes before Hunk opened his eyes with a sigh and pushed himself to a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes and stared around his room.

In the dark, the shapes of his unfinished tinkered projects were shoved in the corners of the room. A few books he'd managed to get translated into English sat on the floor beside his bed.

Hunk blinked the sleep and dreams out of tired eyes and glanced once at his pillow.

But he'd had those dreams before. He knew falling asleep again wasn't an option.

So, instead, Hunk let himself wake up enough to get up and he carefully made his bed. He picked up one of his unfinished projects and quietly made his way down the hall of bedroom doors. A part of his mind scolded him for getting up so soon. If he was tired, he wouldn't be able to function very well by the time the actual day started (though days were just an illusion in a spaceship).

Hunk's steps were already heavy when he reached the kitchen. He hadn't even noticed it was where he had been headed until his project was on the table and he was pulling out random ingredients from the cupboards and deciding what he would experiment with this time.

It wasn't a new thing for him to half-heartedly tinker on his project while trying out new combinations of space food. No one would question him if they woke up to a huge space breakfast of new food.

 _Wouldn't question it._

Hunk wasn't sure what about this particular night made this reoccurring dream worse than others, but it seemed worse all the same. He set down the box of whatever he had been staring at and leaned his elbows on the counter.

He stayed that way.

Staring at the wall opposite him.

Not moving while a mess of food boxes and containers sat untouched next to him and an unfinished piece of metal looked out of place among colorful edible items.

At some point, everything ended up on the floor. Including Hunk.

He wasn't sure how it happened. Hunk never gave in to the pounding in his head. Telling him he was worthless. Telling him he was useless. That he was stupid. Unneeded. He never gave in to his urges to hit things. Never let it get to him that his own voice crowded his brain to the point of cracking while it tormented him about his worth.

Yet, there he sat, quiet, unmoving. On the floor. His legs drawn up, his hands on his temples. Staring at the spilt foods and the broken remains of his project. He could not even spare a tear because he believed it. His own voice in his head that seemed to be shouting. Seemed to be everywhere, trying to break free. And he believed it. He believed every word.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So, I think Hunk's is actually the shortest. That is in part because I really wanted to get this one done, but I think it's also because Hunk's just seemed like a simpler one to write, like it didn't need as many words.**


	5. Shiro

**Disclaimer: These characters and this universe are not mine... That's probably for the best.**

 **Author's Note: So, I'm proud to bring you the last of the Paladin chapters! And a day after my return to. I can promise there won't be another chapter tomorrow, but Coran is next. Anyway, I got inspired writing this one, so here is Shiro's!**

* * *

All the worst ones started the best.

Shiro was very young - maybe five or six. He was splashing around in a pond, his grandparents were on the beach, keeping an eye on him, but relaxing all the same.

Shiro had never known his mother, who hid died when he was born, and his father was away in the army, overseas.

After feeling down that particular day, his mother's parents had taken him to the beach. Shiro's spirits had been lifted instantly. Especially with the promise of ice cream and lunch at his favorite restaurant later.

A brief image appeared where Shiro stared at the empty casket that was laid in the ground. The shots in recognition of a soldier who would never come home. The flowers on the newly set dirt…

And then he was at his elementary school on graduation day.

Shiro was eleven, had just finished sixth grade. He smiled and hugged his grandma, shook his grandfather's hand, then hugged him too. All three of them thought that graduating _elementary_ school was ridiculous to celebrate, but they were smiling all the same.

Shiro was talking to some of his friends when he found himself on the floor. Someone had run into him. Hard enough that he had been knocked to the floor.

"Oh. U-uh, sorry," Shiro looked up to see a small, dark-haired boy looking at him nervously. "I tripped and then...sorry!"

"It's alright," Shiro said as he stood up. "What's your name?"

The boy blinked up at him and then said, "I'm Keith."

"Nice to meet you, Keith. I'm Takashi Shirogane," Shiro held out his hand. The boy stared at it for a moment before taking and shaking it. "Nice to meet you too?"

There was a fire. The house was burning. Shiro kept his arms tightly wrapped around the boy who was screaming, kicking, trying to break free and run to the flames…

Shiro stared at his letter of acceptance.

They'd take him. He'd get to go to the Garrison and he was only fourteen.

He'd hugged his grandma, shook hands with his grandfather and he'd called all of his friends to tell them the news. Keith had come for dinner that night and they'd all celebrated together.

There was a hospital room. Shiro held his grandfather's hand. His grandfather was sick. The kind that didn't get better. Shiro told the elderly man all about his studies at the Garrison until the heart monitor rang one continuous beep and his grandma wept…

"I made it," Shiro announced again. He held the notice out in front of his roommate. "You're looking at the pilot of the Kerberos mission. Youngest pilot ever."

Keith smiled at him - a rare occurrence for his friend at that point - and punched him lightly in the arm. "I never doubted you."

"Uh-huh," Shiro said disbelievingly. "Only wasn't it you telling me that I fly like a maniac and would never get a serious mission?"

Keith frowned. "I was joking. I didn't mean-"

"I know, I was joking too," Shiro laughed and tackled his friend, dropping the sheet of paper in the process.

The two wrestled for a moment before Keith shoved him off and sighed, suddenly looking very down.

"What?" Shiro asked and he sat down beside Keith.

Keith looked down at his hands. "You'll be gone for a while," he said softly. "Months to get there, months to get back. Months staying there…"

"Is that some sentiment I hear?" Shiro asked. But Keith gave him an exasperated look.

"I'm not kidding, Shiro," he said with a serious face. "I just, I don't want you to…" Keith made a frustrated noise like he often did when he was trying to say something but couldn't find the right words for the situation. Finally, he met eyes with Shiro with a frustrated frown and a pleading look in his purple eyes. "Don't die, Takashi."

Shiro was on Kerberos.

Matt - who had slowly become a good friend to him in the past few months - and Mr. Holt - who had managed to make Shiro think he had a father again - were running. He was trying to push them forward. He and Matt trying to pull Mr. Holt along. They were trying to _escape_.

But the ship continued to descend, the drones were blocking any hope of a chance to get out, even if they could make it to their ship, so very far away. Some of the drones were landing, soldiers spreading out on the horizon of the freezing planet.

There was no escape. No escape. No escape…

He could stand the imprisonment. The isolation. He could weather the shoves and abuse of the soldiers.

But every time a guard told him it was time to see the witch. Haggar.

He broke a little every time he heard her name.

The electricity. The way she got in his head. Her voice trying to eat away at his sanity.

 _Champion. Oh, my Champion. I will break you one day. And then you will be my Champion forever._

He fought her. For as long as he had to, as long as he remembered Matt and Mr. Holt needing him to save them. As long as he thought of his poor grandma who hadn't seen him in so long. His only living blood left. He would fight for Keith, his friend, his brother. He'd promised him he'd come back. He had a promise to all of them not to break.

 _My Champion, you can not fight forever. And forever will you be here. You will not leave…_

Shouting, cheering, celebrating.

Noise. So much noise.

All around him. In his head. Blood and adrenaline pounded through his body.

He was agitated. Needed to move. Needed to...Needed…

Shiro needed blood. To kill.

He shook his head. _No._ He couldn't kill. Couldn't...couldn't break, couldn't bend to the witch's control.

His opponent came out, the roaring in his ears grew louder. When he screamed he wasn't sure if it was in defiance, in insanity, in pain, in desperation, in anger, in confusion. Or in the bloodlust he was trying so hard to stay away from...

 _Escape_.

It was all he could think.

Escape. Leave. No more pain. No more voices. No more fighting. Just...no more.

 _Escape, escape, escape…_

Suddenly Shiro was staring at himself. Yet...not.

He looked the same. Same hair. Same clothes same arm.

But the eyes.

Yellow. Glowing yellow.

 _No,_ Shiro thought desperately. _Please, no. No!_

Then his team was there. Suddenly, he was that monster. That _thing_ with the yellow eyes and the dark laugh.

"Shiro?" He couldn't tell who it was from. One of them? All of them?

No warning. No pause. No nothing, he was attacking them.

He sliced through them. Cut them down. They didn't stand a chance.

 _My Champion. I told you I'd break you. I told you you'd be mine._

Allura. _No, not her. Please, not Allura._

He grabbed her throat in his hands and squeezed until the life left her eyes. Slowly. Her face a paling stone of fear and horror. Her body made a thud as he dropped her carelessly to the floor.

Keith.

 _No._

He felt a sickly grin grow on his face. A crazy laugh escaped his lips.

"Hello, _Keith_ ," his voice dripped with venom.

 _No._

Keith stared at him in stubborn disbelief. His sword in his hand. The jacket he'd worn since his parents' death was torn and battered. Stained with blood.

 _No._

It wasn't quick it was slow. Shiro heard the screams. Of his friend. His best friend. His _brother._

 _No!_

He kicked aside the bloody _thing_ on the floor and laughed. Laughed and laughed and laughed.

 _I told you you'd be mine my Champion._

 _Look what you've done._

 _Mine._

* * *

"NO!" Shiro jolted awake screaming, sweating. He leapt from his bed and held the scream for a long time before coughing from lack of oxygen. He coughed and then he screamed and then he coughed and then he sunk to the floor whispering it over and over.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no…"

That one word bounced around the walls of his room.

Torn tatters of his blanket and pillow laid in a mass about his bed with the burn marks still glowing lightly with heat. The walls of the immaculately clean room were covered in pictures. Of his friends. His family. Him and Allura. Him and Keith. Him and Pidge. Him and his whole team. Just the team. The mice. The lions, the castle. Some of the other races he'd taken a liking to in their travels.

Pictures kept him sane. Kept him strong. Reminded him of who he was. Of who he was not. _What_ he was not and why he wasn't _that._

But these could only help him so well, and with a night like this, a _nightmare_ like this, there would be no comfort, and Shiro knew it.

At some point, the pathetic whispers turned into desperate sobs, turning the word 'no' into the most functional and expressive sentence manageable in that moment.

There were no tears. He'd exhausted tears long ago. Long, _long_ ago, he wanted to believe.

He wanted to believe it was over. Hoped that when he'd escaped that ship all that time ago, that it would just be over.

It was not over. It was far from over.

 _My Champion. Mine._

"Please, no," Shiro whimpered.

He had no clue how much time passed before he managed to uncurl himself enough to make his position on the floor less painful. His eyes darted wearily around at the photos in the room. His heart beat fast, so fast he could hear it in his ears. Feel the pounding behind his eyes, in his head.

Suddenly, the need to move overwhelmed him. To get up. To move. To forget. Forget. Forget. To get it all out of his head.

Shiro stood so suddenly that he became dizzy. But he stumbled to the door of his room anyway.

He was abnormally clumsy on his feet as he tried to make it to the training deck. He took wrong turns, he fell to his knees a few times and just tried to calm his heavy breathing and get up again. More than once he had to stop. Just stop and focus on his need to forget before the need to move and do _something_ overtook him again, each time stronger than the last.

All the time he repeated the one word over and over.

"No, no, no, no, no…" Like a chant. A prayer. The lifeline he clung to keep him moving.

All the while _her_ voice echoed in his mind.

 _Mine, mine, mine, mine…_

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: So, I believe this one was even longer than Keith's. Anyway, it is already a huge relief to know that these five chapters are done. Only two more left!_**

 ** _I also want to thank everyone who has been reviewing and following and favoriting this story! It really means a lot to me to see that! Thank you everyone!_**


	6. Coran and Allura

The loud, screeching alarm had become nothing but regular background noise. After all, it had been sounding for 15 vargas straight, so far, and counting.

Coran felt tired - exhausted to the point of dropping, really - yet he dared not zone out for a second. He didn't want to risk missing anything.

Although he wished with all of his heart that he could miss it, miss _all_ of it. He wished that all of this would just _stop_.

But the fire and chaos spreading below on his beautiful Altea continued to spread. The attacks from Galra ships were coming from all sides and the ship's defenses were failing rapidly.

"Coran," King Alfor rumbled from the control panel.

Coran turned and clenched his jaw when he saw Allura unconscious in his king's arms.

"I want you to-"

"No, my king. I can't. I _won't_ ," Coran said before Alfor could finish.

"Coran-"

"I will not abandon Altea. I will not abandon _you_. Let me stay and fight with you."

Alfor shook his head. "There is nothing but death here, my friend. I will not ask you to give up your life."

"You don't have to ask anything. It's my duty to remain loyal to you and do everything in my power to protect this castle. This family. This world," Coran replied, trying to keep from yelling at his king. His fists were clenched at his sides and he tried not to look at the princess, because he knew the minute he did so again, his resolve would crumble and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. "I will not leave you," he repeated.

Alfor smiled sadly. "You are not a soldier, my friend. And you should not have to be. I need you to take Allura and go. Escape and be safe."

Coran shook his head furiously and both Alteans faltered a few steps when a particularly powerful blast hit the particle barrier directly.

"There is no time for this. Coran," Alfor stepped away from the control panel and he held out his daughter to the horrified mechanic. "Take her and leave. Keep my daughter safe. _Live_ and see the day when we are all free."

Coran stared at his king and tears began to sting his eyes. Now, he could not help but look down at the precious burden being offered to him. Without taking his eyes off the Altean princess, he said. "But my king, you will die. Everyone will-" he choked and could not finish that thought.

"Yes," Alfor said gently. He placed Allura in Coran's arms. "But you will live. And she will live. And one day, you will both see this war to its end," He set a solid hand on Coran's shoulder, and the mechanic still could not bring himself to look up at his king, he didn't want this stoic and strong man to see his tears. "Now go, my friend. I will see you soon."

"Yes, sir," Coran said quietly and his voice broke.

And then he was walking, and as he walked, he cried silently, and all the while, his princess slept. He reached the pod chamber quickly, and he didn't have energy or emotion left to notice the flashing red lights, the dust mites disturbed by the ship's attackers, or the screeching alarm still echoing around the castle.

He fixed Allura into a pod as gently and quickly as he could. The pod closed and descended into the floor. Another harsh blast threw Coran off his feet, and he crawled to the control panel to program their sleep. Just a few vargas...long enough to get away from the wreckage unscathed.

Then the castle announced it's course correction. To planet Arus, several galaxies away. Just as the ship began to tremble with the rigors of entering a wormhole in its current state, Coran's control panel announced that a personal craft had left it's dock.

The ship entered Arus' atmosphere and Altea was gone.

Coran was only conscious long enough to see the ship landed and safe. This process took another hour of his already miserable long day. During this hour, he left the comms on and the tears did not stop flowing from his eyes, even after the last ship cut out. He made sure the castle's repairs were underway, then dragged himself back to the pod room.

He opened up a pod for himself. He did not want to be alone while he slept, and he wanted to make sure he was there for his princess.

And he did need sleep.

The Galra had attacked in the evening, and Coran had now been awake and scrambling for over thirty vargas.

As he slumped into a pod and the lid slid closed, his last coherent thought was that he must be ready to face his princess and help her. He _had_ to be her rock when he woke up. He just had time to brush away his tears before sleep was forced upon him, and everything went black.

He did not see it when the pod control panel began to flash red and hazard icons appeared. The pod system was severely damaged. The Alteans would not awake until someone would come to save them.

* * *

Allura woke up with a gasp.

Her dream had been so...real. So vivid and excruciatingly _possible,_ that it took her several long tics to recover her breath and remind herself that her dream _wasn't real_.

Her team was _not_ dead. The castle was _not_ gone. Coran _was_ still alive. She was _not_ immediately in danger. And the Galra had _not_ won. Not yet.

The mice heard her thoughts and scrambled up onto her bed squeaking their concerns.

"No, I'm fine," she told them in a low voice. Her skin was still slick and her breaths were still pants. "It was just a dream. That's all."

She had not convinced the mice. Or herself, for that matter.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "I'll go back to sleep, okay? Watch."

She lay down again and closed her eyes, but it didn't take long before she realized the images she'd seen would not go away with a little will-power and pointed ignoring.

"Alright, I'll just go take a walk, and then I'll go back to sleep," she muttered more to herself than the mice who were squeaking _we told you so_ 's in her mind.

She rose and pulled her robe on, frowning when the carefully regulated temperature of the castle felt so cold to her.

The castle was quiet in the middle of the night. Or very early morning, Allura supposed. Still, something felt very awake in the halls and the low lights as she walked out of her quarters.

She chalked it up to her still very much awake mind until she reached the elevator on her floor, and the door opened to reveal Coran.

The older Altean looked haggard and weary, but the second his eyes met hers, his posture straightened and he smiled. "Good morning, Princess. Why aren't you in bed?"

"I could ask the same of you," Allura replied, unwilling to admit that a silly _nightmare_ had driven her from sleep.

Coran shrugged and said, "The well-being of this castle often keeps me up at night. I was just doing a check to make sure everything was working well." He pressed the open door button in the elevator as the doors started to close. "Yup, elevator's good."

Allura was pretty sure Keith would be able to see through that lie, and the Red Paladin always seemed so listless if Shiro wasn't involved. "Coran, are you alright?"

Coran straightened his shoulders as if ready to try another flimsy excuse, before he deflated entirely. "No, actually, I was - I was…"

He glanced up at her and she was positive she saw guilt in his eyes. Guilt and sorrow and terror. "I was thinking about Altea. About your father...The day when Altea was destroyed."

Allura's heart thumped painfully in her chest. She tried her hardest not to think of that day. It tore her composure apart every time. But she could never imagine what Coran had been through, see Altea's complete destruction and having to leave it all. She could never understand how he could always be so calm when he had experienced…

Allura threw her arms around Coran and he stiffly hugged her back. As soon as the doors of the elevator close and they began to ascend to the main floor, Coran was wrapped tightly around her and she could feel him tremble beneath her arms.

"I had a nightmare," Allura admitted, hoping to draw his thoughts away from that day. "That's why I was awake. I hoped a walk would help calm me down. Would you join me, Coran?"

"Yes, Princess," he replied instantly, but it was not in the same compliant loyal tone he usually used. This tone was almost desperate, as if he needed to see her every bit as much as she realized she had needed to see him, the one who had sacrificed everything to care for her.

The door opened on the main floor and Coran wrapped his arm protectively around Allura's shoulder and she leaned against him as they exited the elevator.

A little ways down the hall, the light was on in the kitchen. Coran and Allura exchanged a worried look, before separating to better move down the corridor.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it's been a while! I'm so sorry! I'm also sorry to any Allura and Coran super-fans who might read this that I didn't go into as much detail and didn't spend as much time with it.**

 **When I'm done with this, let me know if you'd like me to come back and rewrite this better!**

 **Now, on to the comfort...**


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